


Mutual Misery VI

by SidneyJane



Series: Mutual Misery [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flying, Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts, M/M, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Quidditch, potion brewing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 05:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidneyJane/pseuds/SidneyJane
Summary: Draco gives something personal to Harry, and appears to have butterflies in his stomach that he just can't figure out.





	Mutual Misery VI

**Author's Note:**

> Part VI of Mutual Misery! Be sure to check out the rest of the series <3 
> 
> Feel free to leave a kudos or Comment - I'd love to hear your feedback :)

** Mutual Misery VI  **

The weekend came quickly, mostly because Draco had been working hard on something for Harry. Ever since he had slept in Harry’s room after they’d been drinking, he had felt guilty. He should have thought more about his arm, the dark mark, and the effect that it would have on Potter. He had been beating himself up about it for hours, it had distracted him during his classes on Friday and it continued to play on his mind until late into Saturday afternoon.

Harry had asked him to his office for tea and cake, but he had declined. He had something else in mind.

The potions classroom was empty, all except for Draco. He had been hunched over one of the work desks for hours and hours, surrounded by books and vials of ingredients. A cauldron bubbled to his left, and he had a recipe scribbled on a piece of parchment to his right. He jotted corrections on it, time and time again until he was finally happy with his design. He had tried the concoction for himself the day before, and he was pleasantly surprised with the results. He stirred the potion, and a cloud of deep purple steamed from the cauldron. The potion inside was a purple, silvery colour and he theorised that it was damn near perfect. He summoned a box of single dose vials, and began to fill them with his creation. He smiled with satisfaction as he put the now full vials into the box and wrapped it in a dark green bow. A wave of nervousness hit him – was this the right thing to do? Was this too much? He shook it off and put his nervousness down to the fact that this would be the biggest, most personal gesture he’d ever done for someone.

He tidied his work area and put his robes on over his smart shirt. He took a deep breath to steady himself and began the walk to Harry’s office.

Students milled around the castle, lounging comfortably on benches, or playing gobstones on the floor. A group of fourth years poured over a _Witches Weekly_ , ogling some famous wizard or something. Draco smiled, Hogwarts definitely had a different energy now that there was never a serious threat hanging over it. He reached the corridor that the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was on, and tried to pluck up some courage from his Slytherin heart. He had no idea why he was so nervous – perhaps it was because he had never really given anyone such a personal present before. As he reached Harry’s classroom door, the Hufflepuff quidditch team marched down the corridor, clearly late for quidditch practice. Draco laughed to himself, resenting how long it had been since he had played his favourite pastime.

He cleared his throat, and knocked on the door, the present tucked under his arm. There was no answer.

He tried the door – it was open. He entered the room and it was empty. The door to Potters office was closed. He knocked on this door, and heard a shuffling around inside.

Harry answered, in just quidditch trousers, and with a flushed face.

Draco, surprised, blurted, “Catch you in a compromising position, Potter?”

Harry burst out laughing, “No!” he chuckled, “I was doing some exercise, actually. I told you it was all muscle.” He winked and held the door open for Draco to come in. He saw that the settee was still in the bedroom, and so hovered near the fire place instead. Harry leant on the side of the desk.

“I, erm…” Draco hesitated, he wasn’t great at saying some things, “I’m sorry for the other morning.”

Harry looked at him quizzically, “What do you mean?”

“When you woke up… my arm,” he touched his forearm self-consciously, “I’m sorry that I didn’t think it through properly.”

Harry smiled at Draco, he was so understanding that it confounded Draco a bit sometimes, “It’s really okay, Draco,” he said, “It’s all water under the bridge.” His voice was soft and gentle.

Draco held the box in front of him, and put it on the desk next to where Harry was perched, “I made this for you.” He said, plainly. He stood next to Harry, looking at him. He was desperate for Harry to like it.

Harry picked up the box, branded ‘Draco’s Dispensary’ and looked at Malfoy, “What is it?”

“Open it.” Draco smiled.

Harry pulled the dark green bow off with ease and inspected one of the silver/purple vials inside. He held it up to the light and watched it shimmer, “What is it?” he asked again.

“It should help with the nightmares. It’s quite a powerful potion – I formulated it myself.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in shock and couldn’t quite figure out what to say.

“It’s a complicated concoction of a powerful sleeping draught, a potion for dreamless sleep, and a draught of peace. I tried it on myself and I had a good night’s sleep. I modified it so that the effects last for about eight hours. I made it in the hopes that you could have a decent sleep, you know, without nightmares and such. I’ve called it the Essence of Tranquillity.” Draco explained.

“Draco…” Harry said, so quietly that Malfoy could barely hear him, “you didn’t have to do that.” He put the vial back in the box carefully.

“I wanted to,” Draco mumbled, “I just want to help my friend.”

Harry smiled widely, the widest that Draco had ever seen him smile, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Draco gasped slightly at being pulled so close to a shirtless Harry, but held him just as tight as he was being held.

“Thank you.” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear. It sent shivers down his spine and he felt almost affectionate for Harry. Harry held him even tighter for a moment before releasing him.

Draco cleared his throat, he was not used to being the recipient of such an intimate reaction from a friend, “Take a vial before you go to bed, and you should sleep soundly.”

Harry nodded, and inspected the potion again, mesmerised by the circulating shimmer within the liquid, “Are you marketing this?” Harry asked, a smile on his face.

“I had thought about it,” Draco admitted, “but I thought that I might actually donate the recipe to the Post-War charity.” Draco mumbled the last part, but Harry understood.

“That’s highly admirable, Draco.” Harry put the vial back into the box and leaned back onto the desk.

“I was going to write a letter to Hermione, to see if I can influence the Ministry to introduce a scheme so that people like you – like us – could get it at potions shops for free with a card or a pass or something.” Draco explained.

Harry smiled, he was clearly proud of Draco. He didn’t say anything, but Draco could tell that Harry was happy. He looked up at Draco, his green eyes almost wet with tears and siled such a genuine smile.

“Who would’ve thought that you would be doing something so noble this time twelve years ago?” Harry remarked.

“Well, yes. Quite,” Draco responded, clearing his throat, “Anyway, I’ll leave you to your exercise.” Draco left, leaving Harry to do as he wished.

He walked back to his room in the dungeons and sat quietly on his chaise longue. Draco thought for a moment, satisfied with how Harry had accepted his potion. Perhaps he would have better rest now, Draco hoped.

He moved to his desk and pulled out some parchment, ready to write to Hermione.

**Dear Miss Granger,**

**I understand that we have had our differences in the past, but I would like to request your help on a matter of importance to me. I have worked hard to become a Potioneer of some renown and I have formulated a potion that I believe may be beneficial to those of us who are still struggling with the aftermath of the war – despite it being some time since. I wish to get in touch with someone at the ministry as I believe that this potion should be readily available to those suffering – perhaps through a scheme at the Ministry? While the potion is not widely tested at the moment – so far only Harry and I have tried it – it seems to have promising results.**

**Yours Sincerely,**

**Draco Malfoy.**

Draco folded the letter in and envelope and sighed – he had nothing to lose by asking for Grangers help.

***

On Sunday morning, Draco woke early. Harry’s trial of the potion had been on his mind all night and he found himself, ironically, unable to sleep. It was breakfast time, and Draco lingered outside the Hall for a second or two. He fiddled with the sleeve of his Slytherin jumper and took a deep breath, wondering whether he would be confronted with a Harry who had slept well, or the usual exhausted but still chipper Harry. Just because the potion had been successful for Draco, it didn’t mean that it would work for Harry who had far more severe problems than that of himself.

He pushed the door open, and walked into the bustling hall. He spotted his N.E.W.Ts students straight away studying for their Draught of Living Death lesson on the Monday. He smiled to himself, he really was beginning to love being back at Hogwarts.

He glanced up to the head table and saw Harry already eating breakfast. He was happy that Harry was now comfortable enough to eat with the rest of the school in the Hall. He approached the table and took a seat next to Harry.

“Draco,” Harry said, and took a sip of his tea, “That potion is incredible. I haven’t slept that well in such a long time.” Harry looked so grateful and Draco felt a lump rising in his throat. He had not expected to be so emotional over this, but apparently he was.

Draco nodded, “Well I’m certainly glad to hear that, was there anything that could be improved?” He asked, always wanting to make his work better.

“Absolutely nothing, it was better than all the things I’ve tried before.” Harry stressed.

Draco nodded again and smiled at Harry. Their eyes met and a silent exchange of mutual appreciation occurred. Draco broke their gaze and focused on his breakfast. He ate the English breakfast in front of him and thought about the potential applications of his work. If he could get approval for a ministry scheme he would be overjoyed. His motives were not entirely selfless – if he could do this then people would maybe not associate him with being a death eater, but rather someone who was trying to help. He didn’t always want to be thought of in such a negative light. He believed that the motives behind one’s work didn’t always matter – it was the fact that they were doing it that was important.

“Do you have plans today?” Harry’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“Not really, I’ve a few letters to post and I need to check the potions store but other than that I’ve nothing to do. Why?” Draco answered.

A mischievous smile crept up onto Harry’s face, “Do you fancy a friendly game of Quidditch?”

Draco matched Harry’s smile, remembering how long it had been since he’d played, “Absolutely,” he enunciated, “Shall we say that we’ll meet on the pitch at one?”

Harry stood up from the table, his empty plate vanishing, and drained his cup of tea, “Don’t be late.” He winked at Draco, and Draco felt the faint flutter of butterflies in his stomach.

***

It was twelve o’clock when Draco headed to the Owlery to post his letter to Granger, and to send his regular set of instructions to the dispensary. His stomach was still full of butterflies and he tried to figure out why as he walked back to his room to get ready. Was it because he was nervous about playing Quidditch again? Was he happy that he finally had a friendship with Harry – was this just a level of happiness that he’d not experienced before?

When Draco reached his room and pulled his old Quidditch robes out of his chest, he began to get excited about the prospect of playing Quidditch, and his nervousness faded away. He looked at his robes, and smiled. He’d had them specially made years ago and they were divine to look at – he even thought so himself. They were made of jet-black dragon hide and a charcoal grey fabric, with the Malfoy family crest embroidered in dark green, black, and silver thread on the back. He had to hold himself back from running to the Quidditch pitch, he was so excited to play again.

He reached a certain point in the grounds and saw Harry already flying around the practice pitch. He mounted his broom and flew towards Harry.

“Draco,” he shouted across to him, “I’m glad you could make it!” He pointed to the ground as a way of telling him to meet him there. Harry flew down to the ground, where the Quidditch chest was waiting to be opened. Draco joined him.

“Shall we just chase the snitch around?” Harry said when Draco met him, a grin on his face.

Draco nodded, happy that he would get to spar with Harry. He had not played against him in years and he remembered how much he used to enjoy having him as his opponent.

Harry looked slyly at him, “No hard feelings, Malfoy, but I’m not going easy on you.” He smirked, and Draco felt the butterflies return slightly.

“I can take anything you deal to me, Potter.” He smirked, egging Harry on. So much for this being a friendly match – this was going to be fiercely competitive bout.

Harry released the snitch and waited for a second or two before flying to the far end of the pitch. Draco took the near side and stared Potter down. He was wearing his school Quidditch robes that had obviously been tailored to fit his bulkier frame. They were emblazoned with the Gryffindor Motif, and POTTER stood out on the back. Draco liked the way they looked, he thought, they fit Harry well.

They both made a quick flight around the perimeter of the pitch, looking for the snitch as they did. Draco thought he spotted it, but couldn’t be sure. With almost no warning, Harry turned sharply to his left and dived at the floor picking up a great deal of speed. Draco, while appreciating Harry’s performance, recognised a feint when he saw one. He remained where he was and cast his eyes over the pitch. The trick to finding the snitch in his experience was not to look for it directly, but let your peripheral vision do the work for you. Harry, realising that his feint had not worked, flew around the pitch slower, searching for the winged ball. Draco did the same.

Draco flew carefully, his eyes surveying the air for the snitch. With a golden flash, and a fleeting moment, he saw it. With no hesitation, and wanting to win, he flew with such speed toward his target. He almost had it in his grasp before it darted off in the other direction. Draco, being a skilled flyer, followed it. Harry was onto him. He felt Harry flying next to him, watching his actions to see where he would go. Now was the time to think: could Draco reach the snitch with Harry on his tail or would he have to shake him off? Was now the time to employ a convincing feint or did he have the speed to catch the snitch as he was?

He went with a feint. He darted in the opposite direction to where the snitch was and Harry followed. He flew slower, hoping to slow Harry down too.

“Training for the Ballet, Malfoy?” Harry smirked and winked at him. Draco laughed to himself – trust Harry to remember that from years ago.

Draco kept quiet, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in response. Just as he had planned, Harry had slowed down, however he had lost sight of the snitch. He cursed himself, and flew higher searching for the snitch once more.

He disliked how much simpler the game was when one wasn’t dodging Bludgers and violent players to contend with. He heard Harry shouting below him. He turned to look at him, and saw him stood with his hand in the air. The bastard had caught it. Draco sighed to himself because their ‘game’ had gone quickly, but was ultimately still happy.

“Well how about that?” he smirked, “The golden boy got the golden snitch.” He was being sarcastic of course, and Harry laughed in response.

“No hard feelings, eh, Draco?” Harry smiled.

“None at all, Harry.” Draco replied.

They clapped each other on the back, and headed back towards the castle. Draco still had butterflies in his stomach and he still couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.

When he got back to his room after saying goodbye to Harry, he took a draught of peace to alleviate his symptoms.

***


End file.
